


Incidents And Accidents

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Episode Related, M/M, Season 2, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-16
Updated: 2010-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel needs. Jack gives in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incidents And Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks to Catspaw.

Someone is pounding on Jack's front door. Not knocking. Pounding. Jack hesitates in the entryway for a moment, but he doesn't hear, "Open up! Police!" so he shoots back the deadbolt and pulls the door open.

Daniel bursts in. Daniel is growling under his breath, ranting actually, and he is definitely going for pushy and space invader, whack job that he is, but okay, after this latest Abydos disaster, he's entitled. Muttered ranting, and hands shoving at Jack's shoulders.

Jack lets Daniel back him right up against the wall of the entry hall, kicking the door shut hard behind him, and then he's nuzzling Jack's neck, pressing against him, chest, thighs, and-- aha. Woah. Okay, yes, this has happened before, of course not quite this intensely or angrily, but then they both had agreed it was a one-time thing, they agreed to back off, to control themselves -- other obligations, the team, prior commitments....

Daniel is _biting_ Jack's neck -- Jesus, hard enough to send sparks down Jack's side. So Jack goes with that, because it doesn't seem to be a very good idea to interrupt him, under the circumstances. He lets Daniel munch on him, and unbutton his shirt, and move _that mouth_ from Jack's shoulder to a nipple, and Daniel, mouth still busy, is now also busily undoing Jack's belt and his fly and his growling has become loud enough for Jack to catch the words.

"We _will_ do this again; we _can_ do this again. Now would be good."

Daniel smells of red wine and sweet smoke -- not incense, something else; clove cigarettes? -- and something strong and exotic, like a spice. Curry, that's it -- and a clashing smell that is that weird seasoning they put in East Indian rice pudding. But Jack can't really think any more about what has apparently made Daniel rush away from a nice Indian meal somewhere to have his dessert at Jack's house.

Daniel's assault has carried him victoriously through Jack's clothing and now he is kneeling and shoving Jack's dick into his mouth and rumbling as he moves on it.

"Jesus!" Jack spits, and his head thumps against the sheetrock and his eyes squeeze closed and his fingers lace themselves into thick straight hair. Daniel's working hard, rocking his whole torso up and then back on his heels. Jack twitches a bit, around the hips, because the urge to fuck Daniel's mouth is strong. Jack opens his eyes to watch, and the entire proceeding rushes up a couple of notches in intensity because Daniel is awkward and rumpled, his lips getting in the way a lot, pursing and folding back at random, like he doesn't really remember how to do this, or maybe he doesn't know how at all, which Jack was pretty sure, the first time, that Daniel didn't know, but that didn't matter then and it doesn't now. There is no way to do it wrong.

Daniel looks sexy as hell down there, the dampness on his lip and cheek glistening in the light from the living room, his glasses askew. Jack watches himself disappear into Daniel's mouth, over and over, and he focuses on Daniel's hard sweaty grip on his hips, because if he lets himself fall fully into the wet heat of Daniel's mouth, this won't last.

Mindless now. So good. _Fuck._.

Until Daniel, apparently out of breath, leans back enough to dislodge the knob of Jack's dick from between his lips. There's an image to store up and replay -- Daniel licking the shining trail of pre-come as it breaks across his bottom lip. Jack tries and fails to inhale. Daniel moves one hand up to where his mouth has been, wrapped around Jack's dick, a bright, rough splash of pleasure. Daniel gasps, "Fuck me, Jack, you have to fuck me now." He lurches to his feet, and loses his grip on Jack's cock, which feels suddenly cold and bereft and alone in midair, and Daniel jerks on Jack's hand and turns to head down the hall.

Jack has the presence of mind to grab his jeans with his free hand, so he won't trip over them. Daniel drags him to his bedroom. Daniel remembers where it is.

Their freight train of two uncouples at the bed, and Daniel starts yanking off his clothes while Jack careens on, past the bed and into the master bath, because you certainly couldn't carry out those orders without Vaseline, or the Walgreen's house brand equivalent. Jack rushes to grab the little box from the second drawer of the sink, because this is Daniel, hell bent. Go with the flow, sort it out later. Because, Daniel. Daniel's warm mouth. Memory of Daniel's hand, this time, last time. Memory of Daniel gripping his shoulder as the spasms took him, in that very bed, the time before.

These things pretty effectively fill Jack's mind, along with the loud-and-clear from Mr. Happy down there: _Warm and wet. Yes. Good. Let's get to that, right away. Daniel's ass. Now._

Box in hand, Jack kicks out of his jeans and underwear and turns to the bed. Then he hesitates, hung up between one step and the next, because there's another new photo to file prominently for use during those long watches offworld: Daniel, sprawled. Belly down, naked. In Jack's bed, hair in his eyes, looking right at Jack. He's ditched his clothes and doubled a pillow under his chest, and he looks lean and impatient and pissed. The view makes Jack's cock twitch. And when their eyes meet, Daniel says, "Right now."

Definitely an order. Jack gets to the bed in what feels like one stride. He climbs up and kneels between Daniel's knees, and he can't stop the groan of sheer aesthetic wonder. The warm light highlighting the fair, fine hair along Daniel's broad back, solid ass, muscled legs. All that skin. It's a feast.

_Daniel, are you trying to kill me here?_

The sentence dies in his throat. His thoughts hiccup, wreck, reform themselves.

_Danny. Hell of a time to get all demanding on me. Don't think I don't know what this is about... Can't just shove in the fingers. Well then._

Firm muscle rounds under Jack's hands.

Jack leans forward and kisses down Daniel's spine as he flattens his palms and presses against Daniel's ass. He massages, spreading Daniel's ass until he can lean up and see everything. Daniel tries to disguise a flinch as a shift of weight, bending one knee a little more, probably to make the splendid hard-on Jack remembers from their first time a little more comfortable under there. Daniel has stuffed his pillow in the wrong place for comfortable fucking, but hey.

_Well, you want this, and maybe I should mind delivering, but you know what? I don't._

Jack glides one hand under Daniel's slightly raised left hip, and gets the lid off the jelly with the other. He sets up a rhythm, jacking Daniel slowly while sliding the greased heel of his hand and the side of his palm over Daniel's hole. He listens. Yup, that was Daniel, gasping. Jack smiles, and keeps his hands moving.

_More flattered than I'll ever admit to get your virginal ass on a platter like this. There's going to be hell to pay, but Jesus._

Jack's thoughts fade to red, then, because Daniel is writhing, burying his face in his crooked arms, asking for it by shoving his ass against Jack's palm. Jack's mouth goes a little dry because he can feel how Daniel's softening for him, wanting it.

"Please, Jack."

So Jack squeezes Daniel's cock, suspending his stroking, and he turns his other hand and closes his eyes and he slowly, slowly pushes the ring finger and the middle finger of his right hand into Daniel's willing ass.

"Oh my god," Daniel says. He freezes, starting to seize up, and so Jack reminds him, "Breathe, Daniel. Let it happen." _Fuck yeah. This is gonna work. Fucking impatient son of a bitch._

Jack keeps moving, stroking with both hands, and Daniel's thighs are warm against his own and Jack bends until his forehead is resting on Daniel's ribs, and it's awkward with the elbows, but he doesn't care; it takes the strain off his back, and there's a sheen of sweat on Daniel's skin now.

Tight and slick around his fingers; not too tight, just tight enough, and that means he's making it good for Daniel, and yeah, Christ, Daniel's pushing back, shoving against Jack's hand as hard as he can and moaning. Jack presses a kiss to his back and lets go. Moves back. Gets some more jelly and the whole question of a rubber is moot, he's certain, but he asks anyway, and Daniel replies, breathy and dry and amused, "You're kidding, right?"

So Jack smiles and licks a bead of sweat from his lip and pulls Daniel's hips until he's on his knees and elbows, spread out for Jack. His mouth's really, really dry and he's so hard it's not even funny, but he leans in and says, "Nice and easy," and, again, "Let it happen," and it's slow, slow, and so good, so fucking good, Christ, and even more with the slow. It's so tight, and then he's all the way in ... and he just waits. Waits there, his spine arched, head back, panting, and Daniel's hips are hot and smooth against his palms.

Daniel's pulse beats around him.

Then Daniel -- _sweet Jesus_ \-- squeezes around him, and then Daniel starts to move.

_Gonna hold on, gonna last, gonna make this last, gonna fuck you into next week...._And he can. He can ride this, stay on top of this, because he's up on his knees, he's not lost in a soft collapse, he's worried and on high alert and it's Daniel and it should be good, it should be the best fuck the man's ever had or ever will have and Jack is on it now. On top of this.

They move together, and Daniel's lifting his head and panting, and Jack wishes he could see Daniel's cock. Daniel's moving.

"Oh yeah," Jack says, and Daniel says his name.

The pulse is faster now, beating around Jack's dick, and Jack feels hot all over. Knees good, back good, it's a good mattress, and it's getting faster, Daniel's shoving back onto him, over and over, and he can't hold out much longer.

"Oh," he says. "Ohh, Danny."

"Come on, Jack," he hears. "Come on, give it to me."

And it's not about speeding up or pushing harder. This, too, is a matter of letting it happen. The climax gathers and gathers, and burns its way along his legs and his belly and it explodes out of him, carrying Jack forward for one last flex and push as the wave of pleasure crests and then breaks. And Daniel's right there, pushing back, firm and solid under Jack's hands, against Jack's thighs.

Jack catches his breath and leans, his temple against Daniel's shoulder blade, and rests a minute. Then he has to smile, because Daniel has reached back and found Jack's wrist. Jack wiggles along in the warm bracelet of Daniel's grasp until he's got their hands together. He holds on. Daniel's fingers are a little sweaty. He steadies himself against Daniel's hip with his other hand and eases out of Daniel's body. Then he thumps onto the mattress, hip and elbow, and Daniel's turning to him, facing him, and moving, maybe intending to slide down to hug him -- Daniel's definitely a cuddler; he knows this from last time -- and that won't do at all. Not yet.

Jack pulls the pillow over, getting it under his neck, and shoves himself down the bed and grabs hold of Daniel's hips, and the thick length of him fills Jack's mouth nicely. Daniel's harder immediately, and his balls tighten in Jack's hand.

Yeah, maybe Jack's showing off a little. Lots of tongue and plenty of suction, timed just right.

"Ah," Daniel says. "Ah, ah, Jack!"

Just a cracked, broken syllable, and Daniel's fingers dig into Jack's shoulders, long strong fingers, and ow -- his nails aren't nearly as ruined and short as Jack's. Jack clears his throat after some swallowing. Daniel's thigh makes a great pillow, the short wiry hairs pressing into Jack's cheek. Daniel's hand is heavy and lax against Jack's skull.

~~~

Daniel showers, feeling sore and strange, comforted somehow by knowing that he has succeeded in easing out of bed and away from Jack without waking him, knowing that Jack is still there in the bed. Water off creates an uneasy, echoing quiet. A glance at the clock on the toilet tank. He's slept about two hours after the immense crashing release Jack gave him.

He dries himself slowly, carefully, seeing the mole on his leg, the tan line on his upper arm, noticing that it's hard to completely wash off petroleum jelly and that that is a good thing. He looks at the white new towel for a moment and then hangs it around his shoulders.

Jack is awake. He lies there on his side, smiling a little, apparently admiring the view. But he doesn't say a word, and Daniel is grateful.

Daniel tilts his head to one side and almost smiles, almost. After a moment Jack gathers himself and gets up, brushing past Daniel with a caress to his ass. It tickles. Jack showers, a short shower, probably just soaping the critical parts. Daniel lies on his back on the bed that smells of the two of them and sex, hands folded under his head. He hears Jack brush his teeth. He thinks about dressing and leaving before Jack emerges from the bathroom, but it seems like way too much work to attempt.

Daniel feels lonely, quite completely empty. A wave of black opens up to engulf him, space without movement, not a bit like the movement of the wormhole. Just space. Dark.

And he isn't crying, his breath is calm and even, nothing clenched in his gut, but he feels two warm tears gather and spill, one out of the corner of each eye. He stares at the ceiling. Jack had filled him and that was good. But this is an awful feeling now, a bereft feeling, a stupid feeling. _Your lover, your **lover,** in the next room, doing simple personal things that have nothing to do with you, and you're alone_. Daniel wants to scream at the teen-aged ridiculousness of it all. But he lies there, unmoving, and two tears soak into the sheet. Just two.

Jack climbs in the bed and folds himself around Daniel. Daniel doesn't soften. They lie there for awhile and gradually Daniel can feel how Jack breathes, out of synch with himself. He listens to that.

Jack sighs and begins to trace, with two fingers, the pattern of the transparent down on Daniel's chest. Jack draws a breath.

Jack says, "You probably don't want to hear this. But you gotta understand that I know how it feels, when nothing is right. When it's all... when there's just nothing ahead of you. You know?"

Daniel doesn't say anything, and after a moment, Jack continues.

"You saw me, how I was on Abydos the first time.... You saw me when nothing was right and everything was wrong and there was nowhere to go."

Daniel reaches up and covers Jack's hand, pressing his fingers flat, stopping the gentle tracing. Jack's voice had been tentative and kind. Daniel makes his voice sharp, like a knife. A tool intended to cut and to hurt.

"Don't lie there and preach to me about how it will get better."

He pushes Jack's hand away and sits up, and coils in on himself. Jack sits up, too, gets to his knees and puts an arm's length between them on the bed. He frowns.

"I'm not. Because, it won't."

Daniel stops. He felt that he was getting up, going, but he stops and turns. The lamplight is kind to Jack, spilling behind him as he kneels on the ruined sheets, a look of concerned fierceness on his face that Daniel knows well. It's the searching look from first recons of new planets, but this is the wrong background, the wrong setting. The look is the same, but here, Jack's naked, his dogtags swinging a little as he crouches, a hand half extended to Daniel. Daniel realizes he's kneeling, too. They're almost mirroring each other, except Daniel is poised to get out, to go. It's Jack who's reaching out.

Daniel thinks of a photo he's seen only once, as he guiltily pawed through the cigar box that the crystal alien simulacrum of Jack had left on the bench by Jack's locker, months ago. A Jack stared out of that photo whom Daniel has seen only once before, here in this bed. A totally unselfconscious Jack, tender and open and smiling. The undefended look in his eyes as he glanced aside, in the photo, at Charlie and Sarah, the two of them smiling at the camera. Daniel has had the blessing of that tenderness turned on him, now and at other times. Daniel focuses again, on the real Jack, right here at his fingertips, more of Jack right here than he's ever had before, and Jack has done what he wanted, come to him, allowed, given, and Jack is still reaching out, kneeling on his own bed, knees splayed. He looks beautiful, Daniel thinks. Beautiful and pained.

_What the fuck do I think I'm doing here..._

Daniel reaches out and grasps Jack's forearm and Jack squeezes him back, holding tight, to keep Daniel in the bed. Daniel closes his eyes.

Jack says softly, "It's not all right. It will never be all right. Never again, no matter what happens from here. But you either find a way to go on, or you don't."

Daniel opens his eyes, and he's looking at their linked arms. Jack shifts, and grimaces, getting off his knees.

_He's so unselfconscious_, Daniel thinks. Jack sits there, just waiting, sitting with a knee up, careless of displaying his privates, unworried about how he looks with his clothes off. Daniel had to consciously open his hands to drop his towel when he climbed into bed again.

A memory, sharp and unwelcome and irresistible: Sha're, when he first laid eyes on her again, in Kasuf's tent. The utter reality of her possession, the obscenity of the ongoing rape of her entire life, of their entire future, the massacre of the family they now will never have. Daniel winces and closes his eyes, wishing he could throw up, wishing he could do something, anything. He prays, uselessly and without hope, to change their fates.

He opens his eyes, and looks down, and there's Jack's hand, holding on. Warm and alive.

There's nothing about loss and revenge that Jack doesn't already know. Daniel lifts his eyes again and there's that look -- that sweet, tender, silent look. He lets Jack pull him in.

Slowly they lie down again, without lust this time. Warmth without fire, comfort without arousal. Jack presses against him, all skin. Daniel remembers Abydos, remembers other things. He clears his throat to speak, but his voice catches. He tries again.

"Abydos was where you decided to go on again. On that first mission through the gate. Wasn't it?"

"You were there," Jack says lightly, that deceptive lightness that covers so many emotions. Daniel presses his face a little more firmly into Jack's neck, smelling soap and sweat.

"You were why," Jack whispers, and tightens his arm, pulling Daniel a little closer to his side.


End file.
